


It All Depends On; The Company You Keep

by Ryuchu



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 15:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuchu/pseuds/Ryuchu
Summary: Two different dinners in two different places with two different sets of people because of one simple choice. They run parallel, but the taste and quality of the food Miriam eats couldn't be more different. [Written for the 'Appetizing Idols' Engloid zine]





	1. It all depends on...

**Author's Note:**

> Its been a while since I've written anything for Vocaloid, so this was pretty fun. Back with the usual weird narrative styles I used to love doing back in the day!

It was like chewing on sawdust.

Fancy, high class, expensive-as-all-hell sawdust.

Something had to be wrong with her.

When Miriam was a child, she waited for dinners as if they were Christmas. As soon as she managed to escape the tutors’ grasps, she would rush downstairs to the kitchens, glowing like a thousand Christmas lights. Expertly, she wove in and out of legs, knowing exactly where to find whatever present she was seeking on that particular day. She had been scolded countless times for stains left in pockets from filched butter rolls, tarts, or meat pies. However, their heavenly taste made it absolutely worth it.

Years may have passed since those childish exploits and the staff may have changed, but the quality her father still demanded was apparent in the meticulously prepared food arrayed before her. The steak had been cooked to medium-rare perfection, juices seeping out with each cut of the knife; the potatoes were whipped until they were light as air, the butter running down the sides perfectly portioned and sublime; the green beans tasted better than vegetables had any right to, their natural earthy taste complimented perfectly by bacon and corn. A meal that seemed a perfect photograph of what she used to eat every night. A meal fit for a king, a queen, a duchess – the entire royal court and then some.

But Miriam was none of those things and the food tasted like sawdust.

However, no matter how her senses squirmed and itched, she didn’t stop eating. No, she had been too well groomed to stop being polite just because steak, potatoes, and green beans all tasted like nothing but hell. Dainty bite after dainty bite found its way from her plate to her fork to her mouth, ending in a scratchy mouthful every time.

No one else made a sound, no one else protested. It had to be her. It always had to be her. She had to be the problem here. Always. Always. A year away from this house must have made her even more ungrateful than when she left. Dinners were supposed to be Christmas and magic and wonder and...

They weren’t supposed to taste like this.

Halfway through the meal, years of training in propriety finally fell victim to the primal shrieking of her taste buds. An involuntary shudder crawled through her spine as she set down her fork, her shaking hands making it clink gently against the fine china saved for special occasions. She quickly bit back her bile as her eyes wandered from her plate to the people flanking her on each side.

Prima.

Tonio.

Two of the most lauded opera singers of the 21st century.

Two stars that seemed to shine all the brighter in the void of insignificance that swallowed their profession in the modern day.

Two siblings and two glittering examples of what Miriam could never be.

They, much like the rest of her family back through hundreds of years, seemed perfectly content to lock themselves away in an out-dated, gilded fantasy of opera houses and high society. While she had always wandered the hallways of her parents’ mansion as if she were a time traveler flung into the past without preparation, her siblings carried themselves as if the world still answered to lords and ladies.

There was nothing wrong with them.

They were the perfect image of proper breeding, as if they had been directly lifted from the pages of a book of manners. Miriam watched Prima dab gently at her lips with her silk napkin before turning to see Tonio mimic the action with the same practiced precision. A nagging at the back of her mind that spoke in the voice of her younger self whispered that she should copy them. Maybe if she copied well enough, there would be nothing wrong with her either.

She took up her fork once again, realizing that it didn’t matter how many bites she took. In the end she would only find sawdust.

It was stupid of her to accept her father’s invitation.

In the past year she had been struggling to keep her family out of sight, out of mind. But when the unexpected summons came from her father after a year of stony silence, she stupidly let herself be drawn in by rosy, child-like hope. She left the reality of her tiny apartment in some no-name town and joined her family in the sprawling mansion paid for by years of operatic tradition she had failed to respect; years of tradition she could never hope to live up to.

But that didn’t stop her family from trying. The minute she stepped in the door, she was once again pinched, pulled, and prodded to fit a mold that had been prepared for her even before she was born. No one asked how she had been, no one asked what she was doing now. It was like the past year of her life hadn’t happened at all. Just a little hiccup. Just a little mistake. It could be ignored and swept away and she could come back to them. There was something wrong with her. There was nothing wrong with them. The mold was still there, waiting for her to fill it. Couldn’t she try just a little bit harder?

Another bite of potatoes, another transformation into sawdust, another shudder she couldn’t hold back.

Child-like _stupidity_ had brought her here.

She felt two sets of eyes on her as she took another dainty bite of dry irritation and knew without looking up that it was Prima and Tonio (of course not her father). Miriam kept her eyes pointedly on her plate. She couldn’t stand the way they looked at her.

Kindness.

Kindness and pity.

Pity that she was stupid enough to try making it in the world by herself; kindness that they were willing to take her back, to save her from herself. Dinner could be Christmas again. All she had to do was once again abandon Miriam to be her father’s daughter. All she had to do was admit she made a horrible mistake, that she was stupid – that there was something _wrong_ with her.

And maybe there was something wrong with her.

Maybe that was why she was chewing on sawdust while everyone else enjoyed Christmas.


	2. ...the company you keep

It was like chewing on velvet.

Greasy, low-class, cheap-as-all-hell velvet.

And god fucking dammit did it taste good.

When Miriam was a child, being allowed to eat something as simple and greasy as a burrito was unimaginable. Hell, she hadn’t even known what a burrito was until her bandmates dragged her to Taco Bell to celebrate their first ever gig at some dive bar where the air was more cigarette smoke than oxygen. At the time, going for fast food at 3 AM was something completely foreign and she couldn’t help but pull a face at the overwhelming smell of grease that clung to everything in the building. If she wasn’t a disappointment to her family before, she certainly would be now.

A few months had passed since then and the burrito was still the same. Shredded chicken, seasoned rice, refried beans, and chipotle sauce all wrapped up in a plain flour tortilla. They had certainly done their job in making sure the burrito you could get across town tasted exactly like the one she was eating right now. And how it tasted was, as her friend lovingly put it, “beyond drunk food – it’s shit faced, plastered food”.

But Miriam was none of those things and the food tasted like velvet.

Which was a stupid thought because it was the same food she had almost gagged on that first night, earning her more than one ‘sheltered little rich-girl’ comment. But what she was eating right now was delicious. She tore off bite after bite with her teeth, only pausing to breathe when she really had to. It was just too damn good; as good as any of (or maybe even better than) the meals from her childhood.

It was shit faced, plastered food and it was one of the best things she had ever tasted.

It definitely had to be something with her. No one was supposed to like fast food this much. Sure, the stuff was designed to be addictive, but it wasn’t designed to be scarfed down like you were a starving, rabid dog. You were supposed to complain about it and only eat it when you had no other choice and…

She didn’t really care what you were supposed to do.

As she finished up the last bit of her burrito, she finally allowed herself a solid breath as she collapsed back in her chair. She let out a contented sigh as she closed her eyes and let the food settle. Her taste buds still buzzed as she ran her tongue over her lips. A second later she burped.

“Ladylike.”

It was mundane, wasn’t it? To talk when you were eating dinner with other people. Yet the goofy smile that spread across her face was that of a child experiencing something rare and wonderful. This was different. This was new. This was great.

She opened her eyes and looked at her two bandmates.

Daina.

Sonika.

Two no-name artists hopping to make it big.

Two girls from two very different walks of life that had approached her randomly four months ago as she was playing her guitar on the street corner for tips.

Two friends and two examples of everything Miriam hopped to be.

“What are you smiling about?” Daina asked as she took a bite of her taco, “It’s creepy. You do realize I’m making fun of you, right?”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Sonika chimed in with a mouthful of nachos, “We’re friends and bandmates on a journey to conquer the world together! I mean, just look at today! We played our biggest venue yet! That’s gotta be worth something!”

“Uh huh. Our ‘biggest venue’ was your parents’ bar that they only let us perform at ‘cause you’ve got the puppy dog eyes powers of an actual puppy.”

“Hey! That’s not the only reason! They said they thought we actually sounded really good and that’s why they let us perform!”

“And yet they didn’t let us stick around and filch some free food, so we’re at Taco Bell. Again. For the third time this week. This is where I die, isn’t it.”

Miriam continued to smile to herself as she took a bite of her black beans. It maybe have been a different food, but it too was velvety perfection on her tongue.

She was glad she had ignored her father’s invitation.

In the year since she had left home, she had managed to cut ties with her family almost completely. But when the unexpected summons came from her father after a year of stony silence, she couldn’t help but waver. Some part of her was still seeking…something from her family. She had no idea what – it was all some wordless weight on her chest – but the letter from her father clung to her like a leech.

Her family had tried for years to get her to fit into a mold that she was never going to fit. It didn’t matter if she protested or honestly tried her best to live up to their expectations; it was always her fault, her failures. Everyone else could do it, why couldn’t she? For so many years she believed them, tried to work herself into that mold. However, one mundane day as she was once again destroying Miriam to be her father’s daughter, she found herself breaking down.

There was no trigger, no logic.

She just couldn’t take it anymore.

Two months later she was leaving and swearing to herself and her family that she would never come back.

Then this summon from her father came and those fears, doubts, and worries that had ruled her life for years all came back in a flood. Some part of her wanted to go back. Some part was still scared of the power her family held over her; another part of her was hopeful and dumb, trying to convince her that something had changed. Surely, this time she could be Miriam and everything would be okay.

Surely…

But then Sonika called babbling excitedly about their biggest gig yet that just so happened to land on the same day.

Without any hesitation, Miriam began planning the set list in her head.

Another bite of black beans, another mouthful of velvet, another fraction of an inch her smile spread. She couldn’t help but laugh; a loud, booming laugh that seemed to fill the entire restaurant.

She felt two sets of eyes slide over to her as the conversation between her friends ended abruptly. Rather than try to explain herself, she looked down at her beans and continued eating as if nothing had happened. She heard the expected response – Daina scoffing and Sonika giggling. Just like always.

Friendship.

Friendship and love.

“I swear you’re both crazy,” Daina said with a huff.

And maybe she was a little bit crazy.

Maybe that was why she was chewing on velvet while everyone else enjoyed shit faced, plastered food.


End file.
